


stella

by andnowforyaya



Category: B.A.P, K-pop
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Art School, Drinking, Drunk Sex, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Insecurity, M/M, Multi, Multiple Partners, Pining, Promiscuity, References to Drugs, Social Anxiety, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, casual banghimdae, implied banghim, probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-02-03 01:36:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1726409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andnowforyaya/pseuds/andnowforyaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daehyun works at a comic book shop part-time and Youngjae works across the street at The Emporium, and Daehyun thinks he'd like to ask him out for dinner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	stella

**Author's Note:**

> unbeta'd clusterfuck i'm truly sorry

It's not like Daehyun is one of those guys who thinks only certain _types_ of people read comic books, or anything, though he's well aware of how he definitely looks the type himself - large black-framed glasses and tacky sweater and slim jeans rolled up at his skinny ankles and slip on canvas shoes - the type to read them _ironically_ , maybe; it's just that he never expected to come face to face again with the guy who’s been hijacking the material of all of his sketches lately.

It's only really his second encounter with him. His first was when he was rushing out of work to meet a friend for dinner downtown, and he quite literally got stuck in a turnstile with the guy when they tried to enter the train station at the same time. Daehyun's card hadn't swiped properly and the guy hadn't been paying attention, and there was a bit of awkward fumbling and touching before they managed to extract themselves and go on their separate ways, chalking the interaction up to a chance New York City encounter, and then Daehyun had spent the entire train ride peeking at the guy from out of the corner of his eye, trying not to be obvious but probably failing miserably.

He liked the way the guy stood with his hand braced casually against the top rail that ran along the whole car above the seats, swaying with the movement of the train. He liked how he was reading a book in one hand, cover bent back against the spine. He liked how he sucked in his bottom lip to work it between his teeth. Also, he liked his beanie, and his chestnut-colored hair that shimmered red when he turned his head, and his rounded cheeks. Then the guy looked up and Daehyun shrank back against the door, in case he was caught.

God, Daehyun was such a loser sometimes. It was just like how freshman year, he’d wandered into the Galleries, which features a select upperclassman’s work rotationally, and he’d come across one Bang Yongguk, and he’d been instantly struck, glued to his work on display and his strangely dangerous and elegant beauty. Luckily there was also a Himchan, Yongguk’s long-time self-proclaimed life partner, and they thought - think - he’s cute. He still isn’t sure how their particular brand of friendship blossomed without exploding in all of their faces, but he supposes Himchan has a certain way about him that begs love and subservience and Yongguk is more than willing and Daehyun is just hopeless, really, so he’s actually kind of lucky Himchan came along.

He doesn’t think he can pass as cute, anymore. He doesn’t think staring at pretty strangers while considering the angles of their shoulders and curve of their mouths can pass as cute. Creepy, maybe. So, he hoped he wouldn't see the cute guy again, so he wouldn't feel compelled to do something super embarrassing like try to talk to him or even - God forbid - ask him out on a date. That couldn't possibly end well.

But of course he should have known better; fate works in funny ways.

So the cute guy is standing in front of him and Daehyun is behind the counter and his eyes are probably doing that bugging out thing behind his frames, and he blurts out, " _You_ want to read House of M?" to which Cute Guy scrunches up his nose and huffs and leans onto the glass and says, "What? Am I not allowed?"

Daehyun backpedals and then he digs himself deeper into a hole of his own making, because that’s just what he does best. Sometimes he thinks it would be better for everyone if he stayed underground. “You just - don’t strike me - you just seem like. I dont know. _Normal_.”

Cute Guy makes a face at that. Not any particular kind of face that Daehyun can recognize, but just a face. Like he’s smelled something he doesn’t like but is trying not to show it. “Are you going to help me find it or not?” he says, voice even.

“Of course,” Daehyun replies, swallowing.

Up close, Cute Guy is even cuter. Like the opposite of the Mona Lisa. Daehyun thinks he’d like to draw him more realistically, but probably he wouldn’t be able to do him any justice. Not those dark brown eyes, that wry impish grin. Besides, his drawings are kind of crap and he’s never going to finish sketching out the graphic novel that’s in his head, so why bother. It’s just in this constant state of not-done. There’s always something missing. A panel that needs to be changed. A character he needs to add. He realizes he’s drifting. Cute Guy clears his throat and Daehyun scrambles for his words.

“I’m going to help you find it because that’s my job,” he ends up saying, wincing after, because. Duh.

“I’m Youngjae,” Cute Guy says, probably taking pity on him. “I work across the street at The Emporium, part-time.”

The Emporium is a music center that rents out instruments, fixes instruments, and hosts lessons on said instruments.

“Daehyun,” Daehyun says, pointing at his name tag clipped to his sweater.

“Yeah,” Youngjae says. “I got that.” He’s smirking, or smiling with his eyes. Daehyun feels heat bloom up into his cheeks and covers them with his hands as he steps around the counter, pretending to smooth down the fly-away hairs at his temples. Ever since he dyed his hair pink, it’s been a bit unruly.

He wishes Himchan were here to push a drink into his hands and then push him into someone who would put more drinks into his hands and take care of him. Talking is so much easier when everyone is drunk. But then, most people have a thing against being drunk at work, so.

“It’s this way.” Daehyun leads them to one of the bins among the rows of bins filled with back issues on the long tables lining the shop. New titles line the walls on display shelves, and there’s a section for figurines near the counter in the back. There are a few other people in the store - an older man in a business suit, a pair of teenagers wearing huge headphones rifling through another bin, and a girl looking at the newer issues.

He tries not to get into it. Tries not to say, like, if Youngjae really wants to read _House of M_ he should start with _Planet X_ , and then follow up with _Avengers Disassembled_. And then he should check out the _Young Avengers_ series because it follows the Scarlet Witch’s twins, and basically one of the most powerful beings in the Marvel Universe right now is a gay Jewish kid and if that’s not totally awesome, then Daehyun doesn’t know what is - so yeah. He doesn’t say those things, because that’s generally when people blink at him and start looking for the nearest exit, and just hands Youngjae the first relevant issue, and mumbles, “I think you’ll like it.”

“Oh,” Youngjae says. “It’s not for me; my friend’s birthday is coming up and he wants to get into this stuff. We just watched the new X-Men movie, so.” He shrugs.

Daehyun ignores the flare of disappointment in his gut and keeps the frown off his face. He’s been told he has a rather spectacular frown that he can’t hide from anyone, because his lips are ridiculous.

“Have you seen it?” Youngjae asks him, and Daehyun kind of sweats under the sudden intense attention coming from him. He’s holding the issue Daehyun handed him and this close, his lips are a faint, rosy pink.

“Ah,” Daehyun stammers out. “No. I - haven’t had the time.” In between his hours at the shop, his classes, bemoaning the state of his graphic novel at his local bar with the only friend who will listen to him whine about it anymore, drinking excessively, and waking up with blank spaces in his memories of the night before, he really hasn’t had the time.

“Hey,” Youngjae says gently, like Daehyun is some scared kitten he’s trying to coax out of a corner. “Hey, I’m not, like. Judging you.”

“I’m judging myself,” Daehyun mumbles.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he says quickly, exhaling out of his nostrils. “Will that be all?”

“Yeah.” Youngjae’s eyes are like the best shade of chocolate brown Daehyun has ever seen. He wonders if he’d be able to capture the way his hair changes color subtly under different lights with his markers and pens. “So I guess you’re not a movie guy, huh,” Youngjae continues, following Daehyun to the counter.

“No, no,” Daehyun says, brushing his hair back from his forehead and letting it fall back into place as he takes the comic issue to scan. The glass display separates them; Youngjae leans forward onto it again, and probably leaves smudges from where his fists are pressed up against the glass. “I like movies. I just don’t have a lot of time to see them.”

“Hm,” Youngjae says mysteriously, taking the comic that Daehyun put into a paper sleeve for safekeeping from him. “I see.”

He leaves. The little bell above the door rings with his exit, and he looks back before he crosses the street to wave at Daehyun who is - of course - still staring after him. Even the way he jogs is cute - the little hop-skip and how he holds onto his beanie with a hand over his head like he’s afraid it’s going to fall off.

.

Youngjae comes back the next week for the subsequent issue, and Daehyun finds it for him, and then he attempts to make conversation.

That’s what people do, Himchan had told him, when they’re interested in someone. Make conversation. Make a move. He’d told him over homemade mojitos, which really just meant rum, ice, and a splash of lime. It’s not like Yongguk stashes mint anywhere in their apartment. He and Himchan had moved in together - or stayed moved-in-together - after graduation, and Daehyun wouldn’t be surprised to find crushed up weed, maybe as an accident, in his drink every once in a while, but mostly they try not to mix. “Tell him you like his shoes,” Himchan suggested. “Ask him where he got them.”

“I’m not interested in his shoes,” Daehyun slurred back. “Except. His feet. Are probably pretty nice. Everything about him is nice. He works across the street - did I say that already?”

“Yes,” Himchan said. He pointed at the crumpled up pieces of paper with splotches of black ink bleeding through in places strewn over his coffee table. His legs were in Daehyun’s lap as he lounged on the couch. Daehyun sipped his drink. “You drew him for me. You said you can’t get his ears right.”

“They’re very nice ears,” Daehyun mumbled.

“Ugh,” Himchan said, and then sometime later he passed out.

So, now, there is an attempt.

Daehyun says, “Your friend liked the beginning?” His ears immediately start to burn because of the self-initiated human interaction.

Youngjae blinks at him. Today he’s wearing a concert tee that hugs his waist and a light jacket with the collar turned up over it, and jeans that outline the solid shape of his thighs. Daehyun looks no different. At least he assumes he looks no different - he’s always wearing his glasses and jeans and some shirt Himchan usually thinks is tacky and/or hideous.

“What friend?” Youngjae asks him. He pays for the comic.

“The one you bought the first one for? For his birthday?”

“Oh,” Youngjae says. “I lied about that.”

He says it so unabashedly that Daehyun’s jaw almost drops, slack. “Oh,” Daehyun says in a voice that’s caught between an breath and a whisper. “Why...would you do that?”

“Just wanted to see what it was like,” Youngjae tells him with a shrug. “Lying. Turns out it’s the easiest thing ever. Oh, and I liked it. _House of M_ , I mean.”

“That’s--” Daehyun starts, but pauses. He doesn’t know what to say to that. Himchan has not prepared him for this. Is it bad that he thinks the mischievous glimmer in Youngjae’s eyes is captivating and that he still thinks his cheeks are the most squishable, cutest cheeks in the entire universe?

“I’m sorry I lied to you,” Youngjae continues, a small smile gracing his lips. “It hurts, doesn’t it?”

He leaves. He turns back again, to wave at Daehyun, and this time Daehyun lifts his hand as well.

.

It turns out that they, in fact, go to the same school - which shouldn’t be that much of a surprise, considering their stores are within walking distance of the main campus. They see each other sometimes now, on campus, although Daehyun can’t tell if it’s because they’re running into each other more or because they’ve always had the potential to run into each other but just didn’t know each other’s faces.

They get coffee, too. It’s a thing; or maybe it’s not, but Daehyun doesn’t know how to ask. And he likes the way the light filters in through the windows of the local coffee shop, behind Youngjae’s fluffy hair, often partially hidden in a beanie, the glow of his pale skin.

Youngjae is a year younger, and people _know_ Youngjae.

“Oh, _that_ Youngjae,” Himchan is saying one evening. Daehyun's over at their place again, and Yongguk is cooking ramen and playing something eerily relaxing from the speakers of his laptop, and Daehyun thinks maybe they’d put something in the drinks they’ve been having all night. His hands feel funny, and his toes. If he closes his eyes he can see galaxies swirling at his eyelids. Himchan cards his fingers through his pink hair and sometimes traces constellations onto his back.

Sometimes he feels like their pet. In a way, he was adopted.

They are watching something - were watching something - on the television. Daehyun can’t quite catch the plot.

“Yes,” Daehyun murmurs into the couch. “That one. The one. That Youngjae.”

“Shut up,” Himchan says affectionately. “ _That_ Youngjae had a very public break-up recently. Someone’s someone told me at a party. Horrible mess. Apparently other guy had been cheating and now Youngjae is kind of going off the rails.”

“Off the rails?” Daehyun asks, alarmed.

“It’s just an expression. You know - having fun where he can have it. I hear he’s extra bendy.” Himchan hums, traces more constellations onto Daehyun’s back. He’s not unkind about it, just matter of fact. This is what he heard.

“Maybe it was a different Youngjae,” Daehyun slurs.

“Nope,” Himchan says, popping the ‘p.’

They go to a party that night and Daehyun wakes up in a slightly musty smelling bed in New Jersey under the arm of some guy he vaguely remembers Himchan introduced him to last night by the name of Jongup and it's a good thing this has happened before, so he knows how to get home from the NJ Transit, because otherwise he might need to wake Himchan up at whatever ungodly hour this is and slightly hyperventilate at him until he sees something he recognizes. Himchan's great but no one appreciates being woken up like that after a good night out.

He makes it home. He always does.

.

Youngjae comes back into the store and Daehyun doesn't have the next three issues of _House of M_ ready for him behind the counter, because that would be ridiculous and a little obsessive and maybe kind of weird, except he drums his fingers on the glass of the counter and looks down at the shelf underneath the register and he totally does have those issues waiting for Youngjae and they've been there, lying in wait, for the past two days.

Today Youngjae is wearing a white v neck t-shirt underneath that light jacket and it shows off his pronounced collarbones and he's so _cool_ while the only word one might use to sum up the entirety of Daehyun's existence is possibly _twitchy_ , and he feels considerably uncool under his black shirt with a pattern of planes and their makes in cream all over the front, his snapback turned around on his head, his glasses. His hair hadn’t wanted to cooperate today. The snapback is necessary, and he only hopes it doesn't make him look like a "self-obsessed tool bag," as Himchan is wont to say.

"Hey," he says, which he counts as a success. He smiles. Yongguk says it was his smile in the first place that made him want to approach him those years ago in the Gallery - that and his bright eyes and, later, his relentless curiosity and eagerness to please. Yongguk could write a good spoken-word piece about him, if necessary, but it would probably be accompanied by an installation made of broken pieces collected from the city's sidewalks and shells from the dirty beach an hour away by train and glass bottles and Daehyun would probably cry, seeing it, and Himchan would probably mumble about the meaning of it all, the genius, and get teary-eyed, and anyway - he's getting away from himself again, and his smile is turning blank, and Youngjae is approaching the counter.

Youngjae says, "How have you been?"

He's not wearing a beanie today. His hair glints auburn under the florescent lights.

"Good. You want the next few issues, right? You know, you could just - I have the whole series and if you want, you can just borrow mine so you don't have to keep, like, spending money or coming back to the store--"

"Daehyun," Youngjae interrupts, reaching the counter and leaning onto it. His hands hover over Daehyun's. Daehyun's jaw snaps shut, watching the empty distance between their fingers, negative space between pale and dark skin. “We’ve been getting coffee together for the past _month_. I’ve seen your shithole of an apartment. You watched _The Vampire Diaries_ with me - and don’t make that face, I _know_ you didn’t like it but you stuck it through - so, please. Stop acting like you think I don’t like your company. I didn’t come here for the next few issues. I came here to hang out _with you._ ”

His hand falls over Daehyun’s and Daehyun feels an electric current run just underneath his skin. “Ah,” Daehyun thinks his mouth says. His eyes roam Youngjae’s face. He seems sincere - lips pressed together and slight color on his cheeks, leaning in toward Daehyun, intent.

His lips quirk up into what Daehyun now recognizes as a satisfied smirk. He’s liked learning the little expressions Youngjae favors - when he’s thinking and chewing on his fingernails; when he’s nervous and chewing on his lips; when he’s happy and just shy of manic, eyes glittering and teeth showing when he smiles. He didn’t think Youngjae had learned to read him just as well.

Youngjae hops onto the counter and perches on the edge, even though that’s very much against the rules, his back now facing Daehyun as he swings his feet. He looks over his shoulder at him and Daehyun wants to get his hands messy with ink, wants to paint Youngjae into his notebooks, smear him into the crisp, white pages. “So,” Youngjae says. “What’s up?”

“I think my Graphics professor invited me to a threesome,” Daehyun says, blurting the first thing that comes to mind. And it’s not his fault he’s been thinking about it all day; he had class earlier and the professor had asked him to stay behind, and then he’d asked him if he was doing anything Friday night, and then he’d asked him how he felt about meeting his partner. And it had been - weird.

Daehyun’s not against sleeping with older men but he’s kind of against sleeping with his professors on principle, not that that’s stopped him when it really comes down to it, but then there was the simple fact that he hadn’t _wanted_ to, so he’d ended up stuttering out an escape and then texting Himchan frantically after, worried that now he’d definitely fail that class after turning his professor down.

Youngjae laughs, and Daehyun blinks at him. “You’re so weird,” Youngjae says, but the way he says it - it’s not a bad thing. It’s just a statement and Youngjae keeps smiling at him like he actually finds Daehyun’s company enjoyable and Daehyun just wants him to keep smiling at him like this.

Youngjae reaches over and snatches the snapback from his head and puts it on his own, the right way around. “ _And_ you’ve got a big head,” Youngjae observes, when the brim of the hat dips down.

“Get off the counter,” Daehyun orders. “I’ll have to clean it later.”

Youngjae hops off, adjusts the hat. It’s stupid how Daehyun’s cheeks heat when he sees him like that. It’s just a hat. But it’s also just _Daehyun’s_ hat, and it’s kind of like seeing Youngjae in Daehyun’s letterman jacket (if he ever had a letterman jacket that he could give to anyone, which he didn’t). “So are you going to join the proposed threesome?” Youngjae asks.

Daehyun doesn’t know. He’s already sort of declined once by running away. Can you re-invite yourself into a threesome? And then there’s the whole thing where he doesn’t have any interest in joining. “Probably not.”

“Shame. Sounds like it could have been fun,” Youngjae says, and he actually looks disappointed, shoulders tilting down, lips heavy at the corners. “You think your professor would like me to sub for you? God, your hair’s a mess.” He takes the hat off and puts it back onto Daehyun’s head.

“Thanks,” Daehyun agrees. “I love when people point out all the things that are wrong with me. Also, I don’t think we’d provide the same experience.”

Youngjae answering laughter is a guffawing, so embarrassing as to be endearing, kind of thing. “You’re so weird,” he says again with glee. “I love it.”

Daehyun gives himself two more points for success and figures he might as well try for a third. “Well, since I’m not joining in on that threesome, and _you’re_ not joining in on that threesome where you weren’t invited anyway, I have Friday night free. You wanna - maybe - like--”

He freezes. His words got tied up. He wanted to ask too many things at once, but Youngjae is patient, just leans onto the counter again and waits for Daehyun’s brain to organize.

“--you wanna get dinner? With me?”

“Like in a ‘it’s Friday night and I’ll have nothing to do’ kind of dinner or a ‘let’s get dinner and drink and talk and laugh too much and maybe get carried away’ kind of dinner?”

Daehyun thinks about it. “I don’t know,” he admits. “Probably neither.”

“Neither,” Youngjae repeats slowly, nodding his head. “I can do neither.”

.

Dinner is like when Daehyun gets an idea into his head and it flows into his notebook from his fingers and pens like someone is sucking it right out of him, smooth characters in motion on the page, losing hours. Before he realizes it, they are considering desserts, and Daehyun hasn't knocked over his drink into Youngjae's lap and he hasn't stabbed himself with his fork by accident and he hasn't said something embarrassing to their waitress and Youngjae is laughing. He's laughing and it's like when you're on a roadtrip and suddenly you turn a bend and there's a vista - you knew it was coming but the beauty of it is still unexpected - and the inside of the car falls silent as your breath catches and you take it all in, and then it's over; you've turned another bend.

Daehyun is waiting for the bend.

They are walking back to campus. Youngjae has a spring in his step and their path veers toward the dorms, where Youngjae still lives. He has his own room in a suite he shares with three others. The dorm looms before them. Daehyun admits to himself that he’s just a little bit tipsy from the drinks they had over dinner, and Youngjae does a little spin-turn when they are about the reach the double doors that suggests he’s not quite 100% sober, either.

Youngjae steps into the space between Daehyun’s hands that have come up, level with his hips, drags his fingers lightly up and down Daehyun’s sides. He bites his lip and ducks his head and says, “I had a really good time,” and this is it.

Daehyun leans forward but -

He can feel the heat of Youngjae’s gaze but -

The air between them is charged but -

Youngjae pauses and his gaze flickers down and away and he exhales, breath tickling Daehyun’s lips, and his expression is apologetic - big eyes and downturned lips and a flush in his cheeks.

“Better not,” he whispers.

.

He ends up at Yongguk's. This really should not surprise him anymore, especially when Himchan opens the door and just seems to _know_ \- opens the door and says, "Oh, Daehyun," and Daehyun isn't sure what it is that gives himself away.

Can Himchan read it in his face? Is he really that transparent? He's never been able to recognize it in himself, even, until he's crushed up against someone's chest and shuddering against their skin and everything is wet and achy and shaking apart. His barometer is faulty, and yet Himchan always seems to know his setting.

"It's fine," he says uselessly, but Yongguk is already emerging from the bedroom with his hair in disarray, black smudges of ink and charcoal over his face, and Himchan loops his hand around Daehyun's wrist and draws him in.

They linger in the kitchen-living-room and Yongguk grumbles something about going back to sleep and throws a, "come to bed whenever," over his shoulder as he shuffles back into the shadowed space of the bedroom.

Himchan has always been affectionate, and now he guides Daehyun back and kisses his forehead and cups his face in his hands in the silent open area in front of the couch and says, "He doesn't know what he's missing."

"I'm pretty sure he does," Daehyun chokes out, feeling that bubble of disappointment and anxiety and self-blame starting to burst inside of him, but Himchan holds onto him and shushes him, brushing his thumbs at the soft skin under his eyes.

"No, Daehyun. I'm sure it's not that," Himchan says.

Daehyun's mouth twists and his eyes burn, but he says nothing in response. He lets Himchan lead him into the bedroom and sit him down on the bed, and he shimmies out of his jeans. The lump that is Yongguk turns onto his side to drape an arm around him when he lies down, settling into position behind him, comfortable and familiar.

His jeans rustle and drop to the floor somewhere. The bed squeaks when Himchan climbs on, too, and then he is safely tucked under Himchan's chin, the older man's fingers running through his hair.

When Yongguk is breathing steadily behind him and Himchan's fingers have stilled, he presses a kiss to Himchan's throat and sinks down into sleep.

.

The party is in full swing but Daehyun thinks he’s on his last dredges. He’d come for a friend of a friend but now that friend has disappeared off somewhere - probably to fool around on the balcony - and Daehyun stumbles into the kitchen for a drink.

He isn’t sure what it means that his friend left him so willingly, already assuming he’d be going home with someone else.

Youngjae is in the kitchen. Youngjae is pressed up against the counter across from Daehyun with another boy standing between his legs, and he is kissing this other boy and twisting his fingers into his shirt, rucking it up at the bottom to reveal a strip of silver-pale skin. The other boy is tall, and Youngjae has to tilt his head up to reach his lips.

Daehyun mixes his drink at the kitchen island. A splash of coke and whiskey the rest of the way, a couple of ice cubes. Youngjae groans and then their eyes meet over the shoulder this other boy, and then Youngjae shifts to grin at Daehyun, and his lips are fruit-punch red.

“Hey,” he says, as his partner moves on to kiss Youngjae’s neck.

“Hi,” Daehyun returns. He sips his drink. It’s a little strong.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” Youngjae says. His body moves a bit with the other boy’s touches, his hips pushing forward.

“I’m probably leaving soon.” Daehyun shrugs, but Youngjae frowns.

“But you just made that drink.” Daehyun shrugs again, and sips. Youngjae’s hands have come to rest on the ledge of the counter, and he shifts his head from side to side to get the other boy’s hair out of his face. “ _Junhong,_ ” he complains.

The other boy - Junhong - stops and looks up and throws a glare back at Daehyun before turning to Youngjae again and kissing him once on the nose. “You’re unbelievable,” he tells him, before stalking out of the kitchen.

“Sorry,” Daehyun says, watching Junhong go.

“Don’t be. I’ve already slept with him twice. Any more and he’s going to think there’s a pattern.” Youngjae steps up to the island and steals Daehyun’s drink from his hand and takes a long pull from it, throat working. “You still leaving?”

“I’ve been abandoned,” Daehyun tells him when Youngjae gives him his drink back. “What do you do at parties when you’re not going to be hooking up with someone?”

Youngjae gives him this funny look, like maybe he’s trying not to laugh but he’s also fighting down concern, and it’s the kind of look Himchan sometimes gives him, too. “Talk to friends and make new ones?” Youngjae suggests. “Drink? You could start up a game of Kings. Or, are you _trying_ to hook up with someone?”

“No,” Daehyun says. “There’s no one out there I want to get with.” He gestures with the hand that’s holding his drink, and whiskey splashes to the floor, making Youngjae jump back. “Whoops.”

Youngjae snickers. “Are you drunker than you seem right now?”

“Probably,” Daehyun admits, and as soon as he admits this, the world tilts a bit on its axis. His eyes cross but then everything realigns again. “Are you?”

“Oh, definitely,” Youngjae says, eyes twinkling. “Definitely.”

.

They end up outside, on the roof. There’s a group of smokers huddled around each other, mumbling and laughing in turns, and Youngjae wrinkles his nose at the smell, so they move away and find a part of the ledge that isn’t occupied and sit against the short bricked wall there.

The stars wink in the sky above them. In the city, you can barely see any of them, can only make out the ones that burn brightest. Daehyun counts five, and then he gives up. Everything is swirling anyway. Youngjae is pressed up against his side and looking up, too, and then he’s not looking up; he’s looking at Daehyun.

Daehyun swallows, smoke in his lungs.

“Tell me about your graphic novel,” Youngjae says.

Daehyun tells him. It’s a work in progress. He thinks it will be about a girl who falls in love with a shooting star, or maybe a shooting star that falls in love with a girl. It will be about that flash of beauty in the sky before it comes crashing down to earth, a ruined smear where there was once something shining and pure and good. It will be about the girl and what it will take to put her star back into the sky.

“Will you let me read it?” Youngjae asks him in a tired voice. His head is on Daehyun’s shoulder and Daehyun doesn’t dare even to breathe, careful not to jostle him. “When it’s done?”

“Of course. It might be a while, though.”

There is a comfortable lull where Youngjae sighs and Daehyun leans back and Youngjae’s hair tickles his neck.

Then Youngjae says, “Will we still be talking, then? Will we still be friends when the book’s done?” He has his fingernails in his mouth. He’s chewing on them as his weight settles against Daehyun.

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

Youngjae shrugs. “I don’t know. Things change. People change. Something might happen and you might start to hate me. There’s always potential for someone to fuck up.”

Daehyun doesn’t know what to say to that, but only because it feels like Youngjae ripped the words right out of his own mouth. He thinks about the rumors floating around Youngjae: his cheating boyfriend and then Youngjae’s quick descent into the kind of scene Daehyun’s always been into, since he met Himchan. He pauses for too long, frozen - buffering - remembering suddenly that it is these blank moments where Himchan curls his lips up into a smirk and flicks him in the forehead and says, “You’re thinking too much. You’ll burn yourself out,” and he stops and redirects, but he doesn’t think he can do that with Youngjae.

Youngjae sighs. “Sorry. Ignore that. I’m just - drunk and tired I guess.”

“It’s okay,” Daehyun says, uncertain how to make it better. “It’s okay - I get it, and I’m drunk and tired, too.”

They sit there for a while longer. Youngjae’s hand moves to hold Daehyun’s on top of his thigh. Their fingers fit together, interlaced, and Youngjae’s skin is smooth and soft and dry.

There is something happening, something that starts with the way electricity shivers through him when Youngjae touches him, with the way the party is going on inside and they are out here, with each other, holding hands. _Better not_ , he remembers.

“If you’re - we’re - not trying to hook up with anyone,” Youngjae says abruptly, “then I think you should walk me home because I might not make it otherwise.” Youngjae hiccups, and it’s bright and cute and he blushes after, fingers tightening around Daehyun’s.

“That sounds good.” Daehyun tugs them both to their feet. Youngjae sways a little, staying close when they make it downstairs and then out onto the sidewalk, nearly stepping on Daehyun’s toes as they walk back to campus.

.

They watch movies together in Youngjae’s single, movies that Daehyun would never watch alone - romantic dramas and long foreign epics, French movies that span decades of time in three and a half hours.

“Whipped,” Himchan tells him with a smile on his face. “So whipped.”

But it doesn’t matter that the films make him sleepy; Youngjae lets him lean up against him and lay his head on his shoulder or sometimes even in his lap, and they watch movies like that and sometimes Daehyun falls asleep, and when he wakes up Youngjae is working at his desk or reading on his bed stretched out alongside him.

Once, he wakes up and Youngjae has been napping, too. His breath catches in his throat because Youngjae’s face is in front of him on the same pillow and his lips are slightly parted in sleep, and the light is filtering in from behind him through his slotted shades, and his dark hair is fanned out over the pillow and Daehyun reaches up and brushes Youngjae’s hair from his forehead and bites his lip when Youngjae shifts closer, and he doesn’t know what to do.

He crosses his arms.

Gradually, Youngjae wakes up and sees him and he smiles, totally uninhibited and it wrenches Daehyun’s heart right out of his chest, and he doesn’t think he can look at him anymore, not like this.

He gasps out a hasty, “good morning,” and then he turns away and sits up and hears the sounds of Youngjae stretching behind him.

.

Sometimes, Youngjae comes over to the comic book shop on his break and just sits with Daehyun behind the counter and reads _Young Avengers_ because he’s moved on from _House of M._ Sometimes, he brings Daehyun coffee, or half of his bagel, or gossip from across the street.

Daehyun goes over to The Emporium, too, but less frequently since the first time he visited he nearly broke the rack of violin displays. There are fewer things to break in the comic book shop.

They end up at the same parties with the same people and Daehyun sleeps with someone and Youngjae sleeps with someone but in the mornings they find themselves at a coffee shop with their ankles touching and pink across their cheeks, and it is a huge source of frustration for Himchan, who has started to join them at the coffee shop, dragging along a barely-awake Yongguk. Sometimes other friends will join, too, but it’s the four of them at the core.

“Why do you refuse to just sleep _with each other_?” Himchan asks him one night. “I don’t get this, like, divide and conquer thing and then you come back together and mope and make sad faces at each other while playing footsie at breakfast with _everyone watching_ , oh my god.”

It’s not really fair. Yongguk is behind him and Himchan is in front of him and he’s naked and a little fucked out and it seems ironic, that Himchan is asking him this question in the first place.

Daehyun thinks about dinner, that little whispered _better not_ , and Youngjae’s sad smile and everything he’s said since then.

“I think we’d fuck it up, at this point. Whatever it is we have,” Daehyun mumbles into Himchan’s chest.

Himchan’s arm around his middle tightens. “Oh,” he realizes at the same time Daehyun realizes. “Oh, Daehyun. You’ve got it bad, don’t you?”

.

Youngjae is glowing. The party is raging around them and Youngjae is glowing, and Daehyun probably imagines it but it really feels like everyone is looking at Youngjae tonight - he is beautiful and glittering and his laugh is so bright, and Daehyun slinks away into the kitchen to fix himself another drink.

Junhong is there. He’s met Junhong a couple of times, and he’s a nice kid, although a little immature and blunt. “Hey,” Junhong says, raising his drink at him. By now, he’s gotten over Youngjae not wanting to sleep with him anymore, and he’s easy to talk to when Daehyun’s had a bit of alcohol.

“Hey,” Daehyun says.

“So, Jaebum is here.” Junhong frowns, but Daehyun doesn’t get it. He must see Daehyun’s responding look of confusion. “Jaebum? Youngjae’s ex?”

“Oh,” Daehyun breathes. Youngjae’s ex is not a topic for conversation. Youngjae doesn’t like talking about it so they don’t talk about it. The most he’s gotten out of Youngjae about the whole messy ordeal is that he thought they loved each other and that his ex is an asshole.

There’s more, of course - bits and pieces Daehyun has gleaned over time, and the rumors, but mostly what matters is that Youngjae is still broken up over it and Daehyun knows it and wants to help him put himself back together, but he also knows he’ll fall short because he’s a little bit broken himself.

“I thought you’d want to know,” Junhong continues, sipping at his drink. “Aren’t you and Youngjae, like, together?”

“No,” Daehyun says, which makes Junhong’s brows dip.

“But you _are_ ,” he says.

“We’re not,” Daehyun says again, and suddenly it is the most important thing in the world for him to find Youngjae, to make sure this Jaebum guy can’t do anything that will make him hurt. “I have to go.”

“Yeah,” Junhong says. “Thought so.”

.

It takes ages to find him. Daehyun thought it’d be easy, given how bright Youngjae had been before, but he looks and he looks and this house is _gigantic_ , and he’s probably being ridiculous but he’s worried. When he wanders back into the kitchen to see if Junhong is still there, Youngjae greets him with a huge smile that seems to be cut out of his face, and splashes vodka all over the table.

“Oh, my god, Daehyun,” Youngjae slurs. “Oh, wow, oh. You are. Here, now.” He laughs and puts the bottle of vodka down, hard, narrowly missing upending someone else’s drink, and stumbles over to Daehyun on wobbly legs, crashing into him finally and pushing Daehyun up against the door frame.

He smells like alcohol. His eyes are unfocused, and Daehyun wants to cry.

“I think,” Youngjae whispers loudly. “I think I saw the asshole. No - I _know_ I saw him. With some--” He waves his hand around and narrowly misses catching Daehyun’s glasses and flinging them from his face. “Some dude. A dude. Fuck, I’m so fucked.”

Youngjae’s body is a hot, solid line against him. Daehyun grits his teeth, willing himself to be more sober, and says, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry he’s such an asshole, but I think you should drink some water.”

“Dude!” Youngjae says again, excited, intoxicated with the idea. “Water, yes. Oh, man. So much water.”

Youngjae drinks some right out the tap in the kitchen; Daehyun rights him and puts a cup in his hand. The water doesn’t help much. He’s hyped up and wants to talk to this girl he was talking to earlier, so he gives chase and Daehyun follows, correcting his path when he’s about to run into someone. They don’t find the girl.

Soon enough, Youngjae is slumping and Daehyun has an arm around his shoulders, and Youngjae says, “Ugh. My head is killing me. I think I’d like to go home, now.”

They take a cab. It’s one of the few times Daehyun is willing to spend the extra on the fare, because by now Youngjae has his head down between his knees and he’s breathing hard, and he’s complaining about his head and telling Daehyun over and over how fucked he is, and Daehyun knows it, has felt it, too.

He helps Youngjae into his single room. Youngjae is loose and sleepy and still drunk, and he clings to Daehyun when he tries to leave. And when Daehyun says, “I think I should just--”

\--Youngjae surges forward, and then they are kissing. He trips Daehyun back onto the bed and Youngjae is--

\--amazing, still. He kisses with his teeth - he’s angry and he’s hurt and he kisses Daehyun like he’s trying to forget, like he’s trying to push all that anger and hurt down Daehyun’s throat, instead. Youngjae’s hands come up to cup Daehyun’s face as he climbs over him, straddling him, and Daehyun arches up to meet him, whimpers against his mouth.

He’s wanted to kiss him for so long. He’s wanted Youngjae for so long, but--

Daehyun breaks away, coming up for air, as Youngjae tries to follow. “Wait,” he breathes out. “Youngjae, wait. _Youngjae_.”

Youngjae pulls back, hovers over him. His eyes are glittering. He doesn’t say anything and he still smells like alcohol.

Daehyun swallows, and he sees Youngjae’s eyes dip to follow the movement of his throat. “I don’t want it to happen like this,” Daehyun admits in a small voice.

He’s never seen anyone else break down so quickly, a fire catching on dry kindling. The sobs flare up and Youngjae’s face crumples and then he is rolling off of Daehyun to his side, and he is pressing his wet face into Daehyun’s shoulder.

“I wanted us to have a chance,” Youngjae gasps and Daehyun understands fiercely. They’ve been so careful with each other, all these months.

Daehyun wriggles down so that he is level with Youngjae on the bed, eyes meeting, and even like this Youngjae is still beautiful - puffy eyes and red nose and tears glistening on his cheeks.

“The timing wasn’t right, before,” Daehyun says gently, and Youngjae nods, closes the distance between them to let Daehyun wrap him within the circle of his arms on his bed.

.

Daehyun watches the sun gradually filter into the room through the slotted shades and Youngjae sleeps. He sleeps forever. Daehyun’s arms are starting to cramp by the time Youngjae finally shifts, whining, and his eyes open after a few rapid blinks.

Youngjae’s lips are dry but still soft-looking, a little puffy. He licks them.

Daehyun reaches up and forward and brushes Youngjae’s dark hair from his forehead, and Youngjae’s eyelashes flutter against his pale cheeks at the light touch.

“I think we should stop sleeping with other people,” Youngjae says, his voice just a wisp of a thing, but his eyes are clear and dark looking into Daehyun’s.

“Okay,” Daehyun whispers back, a weight lifting from around his heart that he hadn’t realized he was carrying. He brushes back Youngjae’s hair again and places a chaste kiss there on his forehead, and Youngjae sighs into it, shifts close again.

.

They have breakfast, after, at their usual coffee shop with the usual crowd.

Youngjae stirs a little too much sugar into his coffee and Daehyun orders something with a name that twists the tongue to say and when they sit down beside each other and pick apart the croissants in front of them Youngjae slides his foot behind Daehyun’s and they hook ankles.

He flashes him a small smile. His fingers find Youngjae’s and they hold hands on the table top.

“Ugh,” Himchan says from Daehyun’s right, watching them. “Finally.”

.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [writing](http://andnowforyaya.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/andnowforyaya)


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